


One Week Later

by Once_More_With_Feeling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Male-Female Friendship, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:36:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7852789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Once_More_With_Feeling/pseuds/Once_More_With_Feeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Lady Mary and Henry Talbot's wedding, Thomas turns to his steadfast friend, Miss Baxter, for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Week Later

The guests poured out of the church after the bride and groom, some of them throwing rice and white flower petals to wish the couple well. Miss Baxter had never seen Lady Mary look so happy as she did in that moment with Mr. Talbot, as they climbed into their horse-drawn carriage. She felt so happy herself that it felt only natural to take Mr. Molesley's arm, as they walked among the crowds. He looked her in the eye when she did it, and smiled down at her. After spending nearly every minute of the last week looking after Thomas--though she was glad to do it, and there was no where else she would rather have been the past nine days than at his bedside--it was particularly nice to be out in the sun today. And for a wedding! It seemed the newlyweds' affection was contagious...

As she looked around at the happy crowd, though, a figure in a brown suit caught her eye. Thomas stood alone, leaning against the stone wall of the church. The smile faded from her eyes as she looked over at him, and she knew he wasn't simply sad in the way that weddings tended to make him sad. 

Reluctantly, she pulled away from Mr. Molesley, and said, "Would you excuse me for just a moment?" She smiled as if to reassure him, and walked away from the crowd toward her friend.

"Thomas?" she called as she approached him. He turned to face her, appearing equally humiliated at being caught in a moment of weakness, and relieved at who had caught him. "What is it?" she asked.

He drew a shaky breath. "I'm alright, I just..." he trailed off, his breathing labored. "I'm just so tired." She noticed then that the pallor of last week had returned to his face. "I shouldn't have come. I don't think I can walk back to the house."

"Right," she answered softly, trying to think of a solution. For right now, though, he needed to rest. "Come with me," she said, taking his elbow, and guiding him to a stone bench around a corner. She helped him ease down to a seated position, then lightly touched his chin. "I'll be back," she said. "Don't go anywhere."

He shook his head as if to agree with her, as she turned and walked back toward the crowd. She needed to speak to Lord and Lady Grantham before they left, but where were they? She spotted them near the front of the crowd. Of course. How she hated to address them at a moment like this, but it couldn't be helped. Surely they would understand...

"Milord? Milady?" she said meekly as she approached them. It was hard to say which of them was more surprised at the lady's maid speaking to them on such an occasion, but she pressed on. "I'm ever so sorry to bother you now, but I'm afraid it can't wait."

Cora became immediately concerned. "What is it, Baxter? What's happened?" she asked.

"Nothing's happened, milady." She paused, nervous. "It's just Thomas..."

"Yes? Is he alright?" Lord Grantham asked, suddenly as concerned as his wife.

"Yes, I think so. Only it's... because of his recent... illness." She looked at them pointedly on the word 'illness.' "He's told me that he is ever so tired from walking here. I know he hates to ask, but I wondered, would it be possible for him to ride back to the house in the front seat of the car?"

There. She had said it. Spoken up for her friend, asked for help on his behalf. The worst they could do now would be to deny her request.

Lord Grantham looked over Miss Baxter's shoulder until he caught sight of Thomas sitting alone on his bench. The look on his face changed from one of concern to one of... pity? "No," he said firmly, then looked back to Miss Baxter.

"No?" she said, trying to hide her surprise. "I see..."

"What I mean is, no, he will not ride in the front seat. I'd hate to take that away from Bates anyway. He will ride back to the house in the back seat of the car, and you will accompany him. I'm sure Lady Grantham and I will enjoy the walk back to the house on a morning as fine as this, won't we, Cora?"

Miss Baxter breathed a sigh of relief as Cora answered, "I'm sure we will. Why don't you ask Stark to pull the car over closer to the church?"

A few minutes later, Lord and Lady Grantham well on their way to strolling back to the big house, Stark pulled the car up to the church amongst the thinning crowd. Miss Baxter had lost sight of Mr. Molesley, but she would explain things to him later. Mr. Bates turned to give Thomas and Miss Baxter a confused look from his place in the front seat as they climbed into the back of the car, but said nothing. Once they were all settled inside, Stark began to move the car slowly away from the church, and down the gravel road toward the abbey. 

By the time the car rolled to a stop near the servants' entrance at the back, Thomas had all but fallen asleep. Miss Baxter put her hand on his shoulder and said softly, "We're home." 

He opened his eyes and looked out the car window at the house, seeming to take in its massive size. "The thing is, Miss Baxter, I would like to have a lie down, but I don't think I can manage the stairs just now."

"No, of course not," she answered. "We'll get you settled in your chair by the fire."

Apparently accepting this plan for now, Thomas managed to get himself out of the car and stood next to it. Miss Baxter came around from the other side of the car and stood next to him. "Ready?" she asked, tentatively, as Mr. Bates made his way to the entrance.

"Sure," Thomas said, resigned to walking inside with a little assistance from his friend at his side. Mr. Bates still said nothing to either of them, but held the door for them as they entered, then followed behind the pair. Miss Baxter wanted nothing but to get Thomas to his chair by the fire, so moved along at as quick a pace as Thomas could manage. Mr. Bates was behind them, of course, but then seemed to divert into Mrs. Hughes' sitting room. 

Once in the servants' hall, Thomas all but fell into his rocking chair in front of the fireplace. Miss Baxter set about helping him out of his suit jacket, when Mr. Bates appeared in the doorway, holding a lap blanket that Mrs. Hughes kept in her sitting room. He walked over to the pair and handed it to Miss Baxter, with what was possibly a small smile on his face. 

Suddenly Miss Baxter remembered her manners. "Thank you, Mr. Bates," she said, trying to hide her surprise. She could hide it no longer, though, when he stepped around her and knelt in front of Thomas, and began to unlace his shoes.

Miss Baxter could only stare in amazement as Mr. Bates casually said, "Alright, Mr. Barrow. Let's get your feet up, shall we?" He removed Thomas' shoes from his feet, with likely the same skill and grace as he used when dressing and undressing Lord Grantham himself. He then lifted Thomas' tired feet from the floor and gently placed them on a foot stool that sat near the fire. 

Thomas swallowed. "Th-thank you, Mr. Bates," he said, surprised and humbled. 

As Mr. Bates stood and reclaimed his cane, which he had leaned against the rocker, Miss Baxter remembered the blanket she now held in her hands. She covered Thomas with it, then loosened his tie. 

From the doorway of the servants' hall, Mr. Bates addressed Miss Baxter. "Will you be joining us upstairs for the reception?"

"I will, yes," she answered. "In just a moment." Mr. Bates nodded, and left the room, seemingly to head up the stairs. 

Miss Baxter perched herself on the arm of Thomas' chair and looked down at him. It was a shame he was too tired at the moment to share a smirk with her at Mr. Bates surprising kindness. Perhaps later...

Despite reclining in his comfortable chair now, Thomas' breaths were still rapid and ragged. With her right hand she reached over to touch the left side of his face. She stroked his hair and his temple, soothing him. He opened his eyes once more. "Don't fuss over me, Miss Baxter," he said, though the look on his face suggested he was drinking in her 'fuss,' and was only eager for more of her tenderness. It seemed he had gotten used to her affection over the last week, and found himself needing her whenever he felt uneasy.

Understanding her friend as always, Miss Baxter smiled, and continued to caress his hair. "Why shouldn't I?" she asked. "Why shouldn't anyone fuss over you?"

Thomas closed his eyes again and leaned into her touch. Suddenly Mr. Bates appeared in the doorway again. "Miss Baxter?" he asked, tentatively.

She considered pulling away from Thomas, but perhaps steeled by her earlier bravery at the church, she did something that as recently as that morning, she never would have dreamed of doing in the sight of any of the other servants, save possibly Mrs. Hughes or Andrew. She leaned down over Thomas, and gently kissed his forehead, right in front of Mr. Bates. The valet only smiled, though, giving Miss Baxter to understand that despite their earlier differences, he too believed that Thomas was deserving of such affections. And why not out in the open, the way others got to enjoy them from time to time?

"Rest well," she whispered to her friend. "I won't be gone long."

By the time Miss Baxter and Mr. Bates reached the bottom step on their way up to the great hall, Thomas was fast asleep.

***

Miss Baxter enjoyed the reception, if only for an hour or so. She found Mr. Molesley, and explained in as few words as possible that she had needed to help her friend, and apologized for not walking back to the house with him. Mr. Molesley may have tried to be upset, but likely found he was unable to maintain any feeling of anger toward her. "You're a kind woman, Miss Baxter," he said. "You've nothing to apologize for in my mind." 

She smiled back at him, and stayed at his side a while longer, until she found the reception breaking up, with the happy couple preparing to leave for their honeymoon. As the well-wishers surrounded the newlyweds once again, she slipped away from the crowd and down the servants staircase.

Thomas was of course still sleeping where she had left him, covered with Mrs. Hughes' blanket. It seemed to her that his brief rest had brought some of the color back to his cheeks, and she allowed herself a moment to regard him, and consider how beautiful he was when he was peaceful. 

Carefully she returned to her perch on the arm of his chair, and whispered his name. "Thomas," she called, ever so softly. She stroked his hair once more. "Thomas. Wake up, dear one." At this he inhaled and opened his eyes, and nearly laughed, as though mildly embarrassed to be found sleeping in the servants' hall. She couldn't help but smile back at him. "What is it?" she asked, for the second time that day.

He shook his head slightly. "It's a funny thing, Miss Baxter," he answered. She looked at him curiously. "I don't think I will ever get tired of hearing you call me 'dear one.'"

She could hear multiple sets of footsteps on the stairs, as well as the voices of Daisy and Mrs. Patmore in the kitchen, but she didn't take her eyes off of him. "Good," she answered firmly. "Because you are so dear to me, and I don't intend to stop reminding you any time soon." And then, without regard for who might enter the room and see, she leaned down and kissed his forehead once more.


End file.
